


Walking Wounded

by ThePartyAfterYouLeft



Series: Flight Pattern [3]
Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-16
Updated: 2012-08-16
Packaged: 2017-11-12 06:22:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/487693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePartyAfterYouLeft/pseuds/ThePartyAfterYouLeft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a short (four-chapter) prequel to "Flight Pattern," imagining the events in the episode "Loss."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Walking Wounded

**-1-**

 

As they sat in the dimly lit office listening to a tape of Velez's men discussing her jogging habits, Alex wasn't sure what scared her more: the threats being made against her and her mother, or the reactions of the three people sitting around the table with her. The look on Donovan's face in the hallway outside the courtroom told her that this was serious, even before she knew she'd been under surveillance—patterns noted, details gathered—by men intent on killing her. His concern seemed real and sincere, despite the fact that Alex could potentially ruin the case he'd spent two years of his life on.

 

Stabler sat to her left, listening to the tape, swearing quietly when one of the men recited Alex's address. She could tell his protective instincts had already taken over. The two of them had gone toe-to-toe on more occasions than she could recall, but they were on the same team, and Elliot's mind was already working overtime to safeguard her: establishing perimeters, assigning two-man details, sealing off entrances and exits at 235 W. 78th.

 

But it was Benson's reaction that was the most frightening. She moved her hand over her mouth as the disembodied voices on the tape discussed Alex, almost as if stifling a moan or a scream. The woman was fearless, and she was the most reliable barometer Alex had to gauge nearly every situation.

 

The squad hadn't accepted Alex until Olivia had. If the detective felt there was more to something, there always was. If she was mad at Alex, the attorney knew she'd either done something wrong, or had been too unbending in her application of the law. And, if Olivia was disappointed in Alex—this was the worst, and it gnawed at Alex, took a little piece of her and broke it off every time it happened—then most likely the ADA could have done more. She'd never admit how much she craved the detective's approval, and her praise. When that came, when Olivia was happy, then she knew without a doubt that she'd done a good job.

 

Right now, though, Olivia was scared, and if Olivia was scared then this was as serious as it got. She hated to show fear as much as Alex hated to be wrong. Alex snapped back to attention as Donovan told her that marshals would be there within an hour to escort her home.

 

“No, I want to go home now.” She couldn't explain it. Truth be told, her apartment was not much of a home at all, just a place she hung her suits and drank her first cup of coffee every morning and slept for 4 or 5 hours every night. But she was suddenly overcome with a need to be there, alone, with marshals outside her door and no-one to see her cry. She feared she was close to her breaking point, and she had no desire to let these three cops see her come apart.

 

Olivia said they'd take her home, and the four of them exited the building. Donovan reassured her that they'd get this taken care of, and as he headed to his car, Olivia took advantage of a moment alone with Alex to ask the attorney to stay with her for the night, but Alex refused. This was so typical of their ADA, Olivia thought. She'd just heard someone give her address to a hit-man, and yet that was exactly where she decided she wanted to be.

 

But there was no time to argue before the explosion of Donovan's car had blown them both backward to the pavement. After that—after being berated by Hammond—Alex had agreed to stay at Liv's place. Olivia briefly thought that she couldn't believe it had taken a man dying to get the beautiful attorney to spend the night with her, and immediately chastised herself for the gallows humor. Elliot got the two of them to Liv's place, and both detectives cleared the apartment with weapons drawn. “Just to be on the safe side,” Olivia tried to reassure Alex.

 

After the marshals arrived and took up a post in the hall outside Liv's door, Elliot headed home. He'd have preferred to stay, too—the thought of Alex being in danger was bad enough, but knowing that his partner was now making herself a target was even worse. He told Olivia he'd stay, call Kath and tell her what was going on, but Olivia refused his offer immediately. “I think she needs to decompress, El. Let me just settle her down and get her to sleep. You go home,” she said. “There are two federal agents outside our door. We'll be fine.”

 

She assured the marshals they were in for the night, and expecting no visitors, before she closed and locked the door behind Stabler. Turning to the living room, she was surprised to see Alex by the windows, looking out onto the street. “Alex,” Olivia said softly.

 

Alex turned, looking across the dark room at Olivia, who was backlit by the hall lamp. She stared at the detective, but didn't say anything.

 

“Al, maybe not by the window?” Olivia was being overprotective—paranoid, even—but she couldn't help it. She knew her ADA was tough, and brave, but right now she seemed utterly defenseless, and Olivia wanted nothing more than to hold her, wrap her up until this was all over, and take her to the safest place on earth. Wherever the hell that was.

 

Alex looked at her quizzically, but moved away from the window and sat down in the chair by the bookcase. All of her usual swagger and strut was gone—she seemed small and frightened, and confused.

 

This was all so alien to her—Alex had never been inside her apartment, despite the fact that they'd socialized, even striking up a friendship outside of work. In all honesty, Olivia hadn't trusted herself to have Alex over. Her feelings for the attorney were far more than friendly, and she was afraid she might ruin the friendship, and their working relationship, by admitting that.

 

But they _were_ friends, and Alex needed someone—something—right now, and Olivia knew that. It was why she had wanted Alex here with her. She knew the marshals could protect her, but she didn't think they'd be much comfort to her. She wasn't sure she would, either, but she was going to try. She walked across the room and knelt on the floor in front of the chair, putting both hands on Alex's knees.

 

“Everything's going to be okay, Alex,” she assured. 

 

“I don't know,” Alex answered, the first words she'd spoken since they'd gotten here. 

 

“I do,” the detective replied. “You're safe, and it will be alright.” Alex just shook her head, and didn't answer, but she did put her hands over Olivia's, and leaned over until her forehead was touching Olivia's. She took a ragged breath, seemed to be trying to decide if she should hold in the tears that had to be there, or let them out. Olivia said nothing, didn't move, determined to just be here for Alex, do whatever was needed. 

 

After a moment, Alex sighed, and her breathing had evened out. She'd clearly decided to hold it in, and get on with it, for now at least. She sat up, and looked at Olivia. “Thanks,” she said. “For everything. I'm sorry to be an imposition.”

 

“Never,” Olivia said. “It's no imposition at all. I feel better having you here with me.” And it was true. Even under awful circumstances, she always felt better when she was breathing the same air as Alex. 

 

“I should let you get some sleep,” Alex said. “If you've got a blanket and a pillow, I'll bunk down here on the sofa.”

 

“Hold up,” Olivia said. “First, I think you'll feel better if you take a shower, and I'll grab a t-shirt and shorts for you to sleep in. Then, you'll take the bed.”

 

“I couldn't...” Alex began.

 

“You will,” Olivia said, and her tone offered no room for rebuttal. She stood and offered a hand to Alex to help her up. “Now, come on and I'll grab you a towel and whatever else you'll need.”

 

**-2-**

 

Alex followed Olivia into the bathroom, where Liv turned on the lights, got her a towel, showed her where everything was, and found a new toothbrush for her. As Olivia prepared to leave the room to grab clothes for Alex, she turned to face the attorney.

 

“Oh, Alex, there's so much glass in your hair,” she said “I can see it in the light. Let's take care of that first.”

 

“I'll just brush it,” Alex said.

 

“No, you'll cut your scalp, Alex. Hold on a minute and I'll do it.” Olivia left for a moment, returning with a small first aid kit and a glass of Scotch. She gestured for the attorney to sit on the toilet lid, took her glasses off, handed her the drink, and proceeded to gently pull the tiny shards of glass from her hair.

 

Alex had said very little since the car bomb went off, and she was completely silent now as Liv worked, simultaneously soothed and irritated by the attention Olivia was lavishing on her. Any other time, she'd welcome it, but now she felt she had no right to be soothed, or cared for. She had no business at all luxuriating in the tender touch of Olivia's fingertips on her skin when, somewhere, Hammond was knocking on a door to ruin at least three lives with news of Tim Donovan's death. Two kids who'd gone to bed with a dad would wake up to a nightmare, and it was her fault.

 

Her nerves were frayed, her patience completely shot. Olivia had torn off a piece of first aid tape and was using the adhesive side to grab minuscule glass chips from her hairline. She was being remarkably gentle, but pulled a few fine, blonde hairs, and Alex flinched.

 

“Damn it, Olivia.”

 

“I'm sorry.”

 

“You should be. That hurt.” She felt like shit for even saying it, but couldn't help herself.

 

Olivia looked at her for a second, surveying the situation, then resumed her work. She knew the harsh words weren't meant for her, but were really about Alex's desire to punish herself. “I'll be more careful,” Liv said.

 

Alex thought she couldn't take any more kindness. She grabbed both of Olivia's wrists, stilling them briefly, and looked up at the detective's face. The brown eyes met hers, unblinking, waiting.

 

“What's with the Florence Nightingale act?” Alex asked. She could see the hurt in Olivia's face. _What the hell is wrong with me?_ she thought, and softened her tone a bit. “Why are you doing this, Olivia?”

 

“Because it needs to be done, Alex.”

 

“I can take care of myself,” Alex said. But she released Olivia's wrists, relaxed her posture.

 

Liv remained in place, watching, waiting. “I know you can,” she finally said. “But I feel like it's the only thing I can do for you right now. May I?”

 

Alex's nod was barely noticeable. Olivia continued, using first the tape, then a tweezers, then her own hands, until she was convinced there were no more pieces of glass to cut Alex's hands or her head.

 

“Just be careful when you wash your hair, okay?” Olivia said as she ruffled Alex's bangs across her forehead. The comforting touch, the ease and familiarity of the gesture, made Alex feel sad and happy and loved and guilty. She looked up into Olivia's eyes, and they stared at one another—hours might have passed in those few seconds.

 

“Why?”

 

“Why what, Alex?” Olivia didn't move away, didn't break Alex's gaze. She touched the side of the beautiful face in front of her, slowly traced Alex's cheek with her thumb.

 

“Why did this happen?” she asked. “Why Donovan? Why me?” Alex's sorrow was audible, almost tangible, and it laced every word.

 

“I don't know,” she said. It was an unanswerable question, but Alex seemed to be waiting, seemed to think that the detective in front of her could do anything, find answers to the mysteries of the universe, calm the storm raging inside of her. Olivia knew her well enough to know that she needed control—Alex always had a goal in sight and a plan to get there. She had made a life, and a living, believing _every_ question had an answer, every crime had a motive, and if she didn't sleep and didn't eat and didn't stop reading and searching and turning it over in her mind, she'd eventually find it. But _why me_? That was something you couldn't reason out. 

 

Olivia's heart ached for her, as it did every single time she'd ever witnessed someone realize that everything they'd believed—built their life on—didn't matter, wasn't true, and that we're all at the mercy of the universe, no matter how good we are or how hard we work. It killed her to see Alex in so much pain.

 

She sat down on the edge of the tub, bringing them knee-to-knee in this cubbyhole that passed for a bathroom. She put her hands on Alex's knees, waited until the blue eyes met her own.

 

“There is no answer, Alex,” she said gently.

 

“There has to be,” Alex said. She was in shock, Olivia thought. The brilliant attorney she knew and admired was gone, and in her place was a scared child. Her eyes were pleading. “Right, Liv? There's always an answer.”

 

Olivia took Alex's right hand, held it tightly with her own, and put her left hand on Alex's cheek. She could see the tiny cuts that covered the beautiful face in front of her. She traced the largest cuts, on the right cheek, and on Alex's neck. They were red and raw-looking.

 

“Not tonight, Alex,” Olivia said. “Tonight, there's no answer. I'm sorry, honey.”

 

Alex looked at Olivia again, seemed to really be seeing her now. “I got a man killed, Olivia. He had kids.”

 

“He knew the risks,” Olivia said. Alex cocked her head, uncomprehending. “He knew, Alex, believe me. It's the job and it's dangerous, and you do it because you love it, but you know every day that anything can happen.”

 

“That doesn't make it okay,” Alex said, hanging her head, the fire gone out of her, replaced by fear and exhaustion and confusion.

 

“Listen to me, Alex.” The blonde's eyes were lowered, still searching the floor, her hands, anywhere she might find that elusive answer. Olivia used a single finger to gently lift her chin. Satisfied that she had her full attention, she continued. “You didn't kill Livia Sandoval. You didn't rig a bomb in Donovan's car. You were doing the very best that you could. You. Were. Doing. Your. Job.”

 

Alex was still looking at her, a cloud hanging over her delicate features. “Come here,” Olivia said, and wrapped her in a hug that felt like the only real thing that had happened all night. When Alex's breathing calmed again, she spoke.

 

“You're being so nice to me.”

 

“You're my friend, Alex, and I love you.”

 

Alex didn't know how to answer that—didn't know what it meant, even. She tried not to cry.

 

Olivia stood, and pulled Alex to her feet. “You're exhausted, honey. Take a shower?” Olivia asked. “I can grab you some pajamas while you jump in. The hot water will relax you and maybe you can sleep.”

 

“Okay,” Alex nodded slowly, but Olivia didn't think she'd made any headway. She was being humored by the attorney, who probably thought it'd be easier to just go along, to let Olivia's absolution roll off of her while she continued to wear her guilt like a raincoat.

 

Olivia turned on the hot water, and left Alex to undress and step into the tub while she went to find the pj's she'd promised. When she came back 10 minutes later, the shower was still running. She tapped lightly on the door, and when there was no answer she opened it a crack and steam rolled out. “I'm just putting pajamas on the counter, Alex.”

 

Still no reply. Not wanting to intrude on Alex's privacy, Olivia started to close the door again when she heard crying. She stepped into the room. “Alex?” Now the sobbing grew louder. “Are you okay, honey?”

 

Olivia stepped over, concerned that she didn't see any movement in the shower through the frosted curtain. She finally decided to slide the curtain back, and was shocked to find Alex on her knees on the tub floor, curled over in a fetal position, with blood running from her head.

 

“Oh my god, Alex, what's wrong? What happened?”

 

Alex looked up at her, and Liv could see now that the blood was seeping from a cut near Alex's temple, dripping down the heel of her hand. “Glass,” she said. “It cut me when I was washing my hair.” She was struggling to get even that much out.

 

“Oh, sweetie,” Olivia said, and not knowing what else to do, she stepped into the shower, still in her jeans and shirt, and just crouched down next to Alex and held her.

 

When Alex had calmed down, and they'd gotten out of the shower and gotten the cut bandaged, the blonde finally seemed to realize that Olivia was still fully dressed, in sopping wet clothes, dripping on her own bathroom floor, while Alex was wearing Liv's fluffy robe.

 

“Oh, Liv, I'm so sorry,” Alex said. “Look at you.”

 

“Don't worry, it'll save me doing laundry for a day,” Olivia joked.

 

“I'm sorry to be such trouble,” Alex said. “I feel terrible.”

 

“Well, don't,” Olivia answered. “Go on to the bedroom and get yourself settled. I'll change out of these and come to check on you in a minute.”

 

By the time Olivia got to the bedroom 10 minutes later, the attorney was fast asleep, covers pulled up to her chin, with the bedside lamp still on. She looked adorable, and peaceful, and Olivia was grateful that she hadn't had to fight with her about taking the bed instead of the couch. She turned off the lamp and left the room, grabbing a blanket and pillow from the hall closet and situating herself on the sofa. She, too, was exhausted, and hope she'd sleep as easily as Alex had.

 

Olivia was startled awake a couple of hours later by a hand on her shoulder, then her cheek. She opened her eyes to see Alex kneeling over her, tears in her eyes.

 

“Alex, are you okay?”

 

“Nightmare,” she said. “Would you come lay with me?”

 

“Of course,” Olivia said. And she stood and took Alex's hand, leading her back into the bedroom. Once they were both under the covers, Alex reached over and grasped Olivia's hand.

 

“I'm sorry,” she said.

 

“For what?” Olivia asked.

 

“To wake you,” Alex said. “I'm going to owe you big time for this.”

 

Olivia laughed a little. “I'll give you an installment plan on the payback,” she joked.

 

“I have some time to repay all these favors?” Alex said. “In that case, may as well go big.”

 

“What do you mean?” Olivia asked as she ran her thumb up and down each of Alex's long, delicate fingers.

 

“Hold me?” Alex asked.

 

Olivia wanted to say _anytime_ , or _I've dreamed of this for years_ , but she didn't trust herself to go there. So she just rolled toward Alex, gathering her up so she was spooning the body in her arms, with their feet touching at the end of the bed. 

 

In the dark, in Olivia's arms, Alex could finally admit what she'd tried so hard to hide. “I'm scared, Liv.”

 

“I know,” Olivia said. “Me, too. But you're safe, and it will be okay.”

**-3-**

 

The next morning, the women headed to work, and didn't say much about the night before. Alex was still quiet, absorbing it all, but obviously determined to proceed. Olivia had tried to convince her over coffee that morning to let it go, or take herself off the case, but Alex was noncommittal and Liv didn't push too hard. She hoped, though, that Alex would give some serious thought to ending all of this so she could live to fight another day.

 

That hope was dashed later in the day when Alex showed up in the precinct. She was defiant—her suit of armor was back on and she wasn't willing to admit to her fears now. She stood there in the bullpen and told them that she was determined to proceed with this prosecution, despite the threats against her and her family.

 

She knew her detectives were upset with her. All of them, really, but especially Olivia. They were angry with her for forcing them to reveal that Donovan was their source, but that was no more than the usual bickering they did with her. This time, it was more than anger. They were afraid, worried, concerned for her, and they couldn't understand why she wouldn't back off this case.

 

They'd each taken a turn at her in the squadroom, telling her that Velez would kill her if she didn't drop the charges. Olivia finished with an impassioned plea: “Alex, there's no reason for you to die for this case.” That one almost broke her resolve—she knew that Olivia thought she'd made some progress at her apartment in getting Alex to listen to reason, but once she'd gotten back into her office and looked over her notes and files again, she pushed all of that out her mind. That was why she'd denied her feelings for Olivia for so long, she thought. The detective could get her to do anything, and Alex couldn't afford to have those feelings, to let her emotions rule her that way.

 

She told them that she wasn't expecting them to do this with her. She'd use the DA's office investigators. Each of the 1-6 detectives said they were on board, though. She was one of their own, and they would back her play. She only hoped she wasn't leading them into an ambush.

 

As she prepared to leave after talking to Cragen, Olivia stood and began walking out with her. “Can I have a minute?”

 

“Sure.” Alex's reply was wary, but she followed the detective into the hallway.

 

Olivia turned to face her, leaning against the wall. They were no more than six inches apart, and Olivia's voice was low. “If you won't listen to me in there, at least listen to me out here,” she begged. “Please, Alex, let this go. I can't stand the thought of something happening to you.”

 

“It's going to be okay,” Alex said. “You said so yourself, last night. I'll be fine.”

 

“I don't think you realize how serious this is,” Olivia argued. “We're all worried. _I'm_ worried. Don't do this. Branch already told you once to drop the charges. No one will think less of you for ending this now, while you still can.”

 

“But _I'll_ think less of me,” Alex admitted. “Besides, I don't know why you're all so upset. I learned this from you.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I've seen every one of you put your life on the line to do the right thing,” she said. “Why isn't it okay for me to do the same?”

 

Olivia was quiet for a minute, their eyes locked onto one another. Both of them were leaning against the wall, speaking in hushed tones. It was the quietest argument they'd ever had. It was also the most emotional. “Alex, that's not fair.”

 

“Of course it is, Liv. Why isn't it okay for me to take a risk for something I believe in? You do it all the time.”

 

“But this is different, Alex. Don't you see that?”

 

“How?” Alex asked. “How is it different?”

 

Olivia pushed off the wall with her shoulder and took one step back toward the squadroom, so they were shoulder to shoulder. She leaned over so that her lips were brushing Alex's ear. “Because I can't lose you,” she whispered. “That's what's different.”

 

The detective continued walking to her desk, leaving Alex alone to parse the meaning of her words as she headed back to Hogan Place to meet with the DA.

 

 

**-4-**

 

After Branch pulled her off the case on Friday afternoon, Alex spent another hour in her office pushing paper and fuming, alternately furious and relieved. God, how she hated to back down. She had the weekend to stew over it, but even seeing the feds arrest Zapata in the courtroom on Monday after she dismissed the charges had been little consolation.

 

She thought about going over to the precinct, but decided against it. She knew they wouldn't gloat—even if they'd had good reasons for wanting her to drop the case, they'd all be as pissed as she was to walk away from this one. Knowing Zapata was going down for something wasn't the same as putting him away for Livia Sandoval's murder. She just needed a little time to lick her wounds. When Cragen called her at 4:30 to see if she'd want to meet them all for drinks at 6, she'd initially declined.

 

“Don, I'm just not up for it tonight,” she begged off.

 

“Come on, Alex, it's been rough on everyone. We need to commiserate, and we can't do that properly without you.”

 

“I don't know...”

 

“I'm not taking no for an answer, Cabot. We'll have some beverages and some bacteria-laden bar snacks, an hour tops. No-one's going to make you eat crow, I promise,” he laughed. “I don't even think it's on the menu at O'Malley's.”

 

She allowed a small laugh. She might as well go along, clear the air with the detectives. She was feeling down, and probably shouldn't go home and wallow in it. An hour or two with the squad might help her lick her wounds and move on. “Okay, fine.”

 

“Great,” the Captain said. “Benson said she drove you today, so she'll pick you up at quarter to six.”

 

A little over an hour later, Alex's door was open and she was finishing up a brief when the detective appeared in her doorway with a light knock on the frame.

 

“Hey,” Alex said. “Come on in. Just two more minutes?”

 

“No problem,” Olivia said, and settled into her usual chair in front of the desk. Alex finished quickly, and stood up to put a few files in her briefcase, then walked across the room to grab her coat and briefcase. Olivia stood up and stretched, and headed toward the door. But Alex surprised her by closing the office door. She turned to face the detective.

 

“Olivia, can we talk? Just for a minute?”

 

“Sure, what's up?” 

 

“This case...” the attorney began. 

 

“I know,” Olivia said. “It's been a tough one.”

 

“More than you know,” the attorney answered. “The whole thing...it has me questioning myself, and everything around me, Liv. I feel powerless.” It was shocking to hear Alex sounding so defeated. 

 

“Don't let this get you down, Alex,” she said. “We'll get the next one, and Zapata will get his.”

 

“I'm not sure if I can keep doing this,” Alex confessed. “I don't know how much I have left in the tank.”

 

The detective understood the sentiment, but she didn't know what to say. They all had their moments when the whole damn job seemed so futile, and every victim seemed like a single grain of sand on an endless beach, but she didn't want to consider the possibility of not having Alex on their team. “Don't make any rash decisions, Al. You're exhausted. Maybe you should take a little time off?”

 

“I don't know, maybe,” Alex allowed. “I'm not sure that would help. But...Liv?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“What you said to me, the other day in the precinct?”

 

Olivia had wondered when, or if, she'd have to explain herself. She decided to keep it simple, and let Alex guide the conversation. “I meant it.”

 

Suddenly, Alex stepped forward into Olivia's space, and put her hand on the detective's cheek, and kissed her. It was a sweet, soft kiss that lasted only a second, but Olivia felt a current of something—hope, promise, electricity—when their lips met.

 

“I need to sort some things out,” Alex said quietly. “But when things settle down a bit, I'd like to talk about it. Soon, I mean. Would that be okay?”  


“More than okay,” Olivia answered, and offered a smile that made Alex's stomach flip over. “As much as I hate to say it, though, I guess we should get to O'Malley's.”

 

Alex nodded and laughed, opening the door to usher the detective out. “You're right, there's plenty of time for that,” she said. “There's cheap beer in need of drinking.”

 

 

 

Seven hours later, Olivia cried in the waiting room after the doctor told them Alex didn't make it. She heard other people crying, felt hands on her back, but she couldn't focus on anything. There was still blood on her hands, and she was holding Alex's coat. She'd picked it up off of the sidewalk after the ambulance took the ADA to Roosevelt's ER. Burying her face in it, she smelled Alex, and she brushed the fabric against her lips, where she thought she could still feel a tingle from their earlier kiss.

 

**#**


End file.
